In which Loki and Tony have a quiet moment watching the rain.
(Made Rebloggable by Request)
It was cold outside. It was the kind of cold that crept under your skin and laid inside your heart, your bones. The sky was a mix of inky black and deep grey; the soft patter of rain echoing faintly around the figure sitting alone on one of the many balconies of Stark Tower. The cup held almost reverently in pale hands was warm, a singular comfort on a night so dreary. Not that he minded the cold, usually, but tonight it was a lonely cold, full of introspection and guilt.
He had no end of either of those things.